


Twenty Stories High

by hiddenlove



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Frerard, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Minor Character Death Mention, Sarcasm, Suicide mention, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, cynical humor to cope with bad things, honestly its a mess. theyre all messy, my chemical romance - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-01 07:31:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11481597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenlove/pseuds/hiddenlove
Summary: Inspired Loosely by Nick Hornby's 'A Long Way Down'- - -Gerard meets Frank on the top of a building, at eleven thirty P.M., where it's all too quiet.Well, hewasgoing to kill himself.





	Twenty Stories High

**Author's Note:**

> Have yet to write something from MCR, although there have definitely been a lot of unfinished and unposted drafts concerning that bandom. Let me know what you think about this one.  
> I've always liked the story _A Long Way Down_ , and thought it would be cool to interpret it in a bandom-style fanfiction.
> 
> if this remains unfinished, i am very sorry!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1) Suicide is a serious issue. 
> 
> 2) None of this is written from a professional's perspective, it's supposed to be taken with a grain of salt more than anything. 
> 
> 3) Out of character Gerard is out if character. Whoops.

If you had the chance to completely rewrite history, would you?

 

Not like, killing Hitler or trying to stop global warming from happening or anything. More along the lines of yourself. Maybe, wearing a different outfit before picture day or taking better care of your teeth or being kinder to your elders. It would be easy things to change, and even easier things to fix.

 

So, with those terms set, If you could alter the past, would you?

 

Gerard would, he thinks so. 

 

Not because he's about to plan his death- don't act surprised, everyone's been picking up on it since he turned fourteen- but because he can't help but realize how much he's been through over the last couple of years. All of these minuscule events pile up until a mountain of distress is formed, one where you can't see the top, it's built up so high. The only thing that has been keeping him alive long enough to turn nineteen is his brother. Is that weird? Maybe. Mikey is the only real family he's got, besides his grandma, but she's something else entirely. More like... a friend, than family, if that makes any sense. See, your family would probably be there to support you, make sure your life isn't too shitty and offer advice when it's most needed. Elena, Gerard's grandma, is mostly just here as a sort of comic-relief. That, and her retirement checks bring in some good money, so Gerard doesn't have to starve to death alongside his already scrawny brother.

You can't get more depressed than this, he thinks somberly. Depressed enough to want to die, but lacking the motivation to get up and do something about it. His alarm clock, round and plastic and dented from the amount of times Gerard has pounded his fist into the snooze button, reads 9:52 P.M. in sharp, red numbers. It's late to him, he'd usually be sleeping right now. Unless he's having a particularly bad night, which tonight is.

The thing about depression, really, is that it takes the stupidest thing to set somebody off. Gerard has experience like this, where he's had a normal day and just been so...  _upset._ Unreasonably so? Probably. Justified? No, but he still was. He's sad, and someone does something insignificant, like remind him that he's short a few hundred dollars on a loan for his car or that he needs to eat in order to survive or that he won't amount to much in life. That's depression, basically. Or maybe just the way he lives it.

With a loud sigh, Gerard sits up. It's now or never.

 

 

10:00 PM is a good time to plan your suicide, Gerard thinks. Most of his family is settling down to sleep, if not already dozing off, and thus he has no interruptions. The only thing that would be a sign of him doing something _without ease_ would probably be his brother waking up, or perhaps his grandma getting up to smack him upside his stupid head.   
  
Nonetheless, he's going to do it anyways. Tonight. There can be no mistakes, it must all be executed well and he can't leave any stone unturned. (Well, if that makes any kind of sense... probably not.) Anyways, today is the day, tonight is the night, and he's going to do it. It... kill himself. Ugh, even thinking about it sends shivers down his spine. He's heard stories of people doing it, falling. He's read a report on people leaping off of the Golden Gate Bridge, and every single person that had survived it regretted even trying. Well, yes, Gerard thinks. That would definitely be something to regret, seeing as you couldn't even kill yourself correctly. Gerard would regret it too.

When you think about it, what's the big deal with suicide, anyways? Gerard would be less upset and more regretful if someone he knew personally killed themselves. Regretting not spending more time with that person, having second thoughts about the type of influence the Example Person had on him. 

He sweeps a lock of his black hair behind his ear, sniffing slightly. He walks from his bedroom to his living room to his patio, on the eighth floor of a ten story apartment complex. He could jump from here, yeah, but he doubts that he'd die. Maybe become paralyzed for life- now, that would be fucking terrible. Then he couldn't even try again, he'd be stuck in a wheelchair with no self-control. His dick probably wouldn't even work... Okay, Gerard, we aren't going there. He sighs.

A cigarette calms him down. He has a brief, yet very bold memory of his grandma smacking one of his freshly lit cigarettes from his shaking hand. "Those aren't going to help you. Go get a therapist." Is what she had said, before turning away. He remembers watching the smoke stick fall to the ground, sort of slow in his mind, like gravity didn't quite work for a few seconds. He remembers the embers going out quick against the cold, snowy ground. Before he pulls a piece of paper from his journal, Gerard smokes his cigarette in full, shaking his head at that repressed memory. Waste of a cigarette, if you ask him.

He's scratching the pen on the corner of a perfectly-ripped out sheet of notebook paper to make sure that it wasn't out of ink. Puff. Exhale. It's going to be okay, Gerard. Now or never, right?

 

~~_My Dearest Family,_ ~~

_Family and friends, I bet ~~your~~ you're really wondering why I decided to leap off of a building. ~~Or not, that's cool too.~~ Anyways, the answer is that I'm really just upset with myself all the time. I dunno how wills work, but I saw this excerpt on Shameless where they faked this dudes death or whatever, so maybe I can give it my best shot. If this doesn't end up well, you're all fucked, sorry._

_I, Gerard Arthur Way, when I pass on, give my ~~biglittle~~  _ _brother Michael James Way all my comics, cool clothes, and all my art if he wants that._

_I, Gerard Arthur Way, when I pass on, give my grandma Elena Way my batman pj's and all the art that Mikey doesn't want or whatever. Honestly? Let the two argue about whatever they want from my room, I don't really have much other than that._

_Oh! And, I, Gerard Arthur Way, when I pass on (which is real soon hahaha) give my dog Snickers to the nicest, cleanest and most friendly person I know, Mrs. Selena Gonzales, who I trust Snickers with his life._

_Anyways, I'm sorry that I killed myself. But I'm also not sorry, because I'm not a Christain and I don't believe in hell so I'm pretty sure that I'm just gonna be surrounded in the sweet bliss of obsolete, where there are no dimensions and no constrictions in the slightest._

_With love, Gee._

 

~~_P.S., if you're reading this and you're NOT my brother or my grandmother, fuck you. :)_ ~~

 

It, in no way, shape or form, is perfect. It's actually very shitty, filled with tiny miniature doodles of eyes and hands and random scratches. He's crossed out a lot of words that don't need to be seen, but sighs upon noticing that they're probably going to be read anyways. It's not like he had any kind of mystery hidden under those scribbles, anyways. Gerard isn't worried about Elena getting overly invested in his suicide sob story, he's a little bit more worried about how Mikey plans on dividing all of his stuff when he dies.

He'd prefer that Mikey gets literally  _everything._ His clothes, his straggler dog and even his prized comic book collection. 

But he really doesn't want to seem like an asshole even after death, so he decides against it.

 

\- - -

 

The walk around Chicago is brisk and cold and quiet. Which is odd, for this city. Nothing is unusually eerie or silent, not ever. Not when it's three P.M. or three A.M. It's always loud, from the cars zooming past on the busy streets or the coughing from every homeless man on a bench or the barking of ten thousand dogs. It's all easily heard, so why is everything so quiet?

He doesn't want to dwell on it. Gerard wants his last and final thoughts to be about... something better than that. He doesn't want to throw himself a pity party, but Gerard is fucking inclined to feel sorry for himself every once and a while. His life hasn't been puppies and kittens, not once, and he's god everything from OCD to depression lined up in his psychiatric folder. (That's not a real thing, by the way. Gerard doesn't have a psychiatrist.)

The building he planned on scaling turned out to be a lot taller than he had anticipated. He wanted to make sure that when he did it, the job got done  _right,_ and ten stories probably wasn't going to do it. That, and he didn't want his brother to be the first person to find his dismantled corpse. Gerard didn't want to google 'how many stories does it require for me to leap off of a building and crush my skull', because that's sort of cynical and he isn't the best at deleting internet history. Instead, he estimated a mere twenty stories would probably suffice. He wouldn't mind suffering... maybe just a tiny bit. It could be nice to feel something, even if it's agonizing pain, instead of nothing at all as he falls through the air.

Okay, that was fucked up. Gerard shakes his head and pulls another cigarette from his box.

 

It takes him an hour to climb the building. 

 

There's somebody else up here.

 

He saw the stranger before the stranger saw Gerard, and he mentally chalked it up to him just being _extremely_ good at what he does, which is sneak around his responsibilities and pretend that they don't exist. That, and the wind is blowing real strong, so Gerard's baby footsteps are easily unheard this high up.

At first, he debates on whether it's a good idea to talk to this man or not. At first he thinks, no, absolutely not, we both came up here for a reason and there is no way trying to argue another man out of suicide makes any sort of sense, seeing as he was going to jump right after anyways, and then who would be there to help the man?  
Then, he thinks slowly, if he can talk this stranger out of leaping to his death, before Gerard does exactly that, maybe he could be of some assistance.

"Hey- dude?" Gerard starts, reaching his hand out to grip at the bars next to the man's hand. Not too close, he doesn't know who he's dealing with here. It could be some kind of mass-murderer, rapist or a convicted felon of any sort. Either one of those options would suck, but Gerard also thinks that he could be a perfectly normal man all the same. "Could you maybe... step back just a tiny bit?"

The man is finicky, and thus doesn't quite want to comply with Gerard, but he turns around anyway to face the person that interrupted him with a scowl on his face. "Who are you?" He snaps, not showing any sign of backing away. Gerard thinks that this person is rude, but he's suicidal just like him, so is _rude_ really the worst offense he could've committed here? Yeah, he thought so.

"I'm Gerard-"

"I'm Frank, what do you want? Trying to talk me out of it? It's not gonna work, you know. I've been planning this for a while!"

Gerard sighs, heavily, although Frank probably can't hear him anyways. "No, man, I don't care. Let me speak, please, Frank?"

Frank seems reluctant to let Gerard continue, but he nods his head anyways and waits for the other man to speak. "Okay, thank you." Gerard says, clearing his throat in order to reply. "See, this is the ledge that _I_ was planning on leaping off of first, and... well, you're kind of, uh, in the way." He pauses, waiting for any kind of reaction from the other man. At first, he says nothing, only blinks and stares at Gerard with a bewildered expression plastered on his face. "Uh... yeah, and if I see you jump, then I'm afraid I might chicken out again and that would really suck because now is the perfect time for me, and... and-"

"You want me to _move?_ " Frank states, disbelief masking his already surprised expression greatly. He's confused, for multiple reasons. Was Gerard insane? Why did he come up here in the first place? Who did what to him? There was a four-hundred piece puzzle here, and Frank only had one piece of it. Goddammit. "Dude, no offense. But that's a little shitty, don't you think?"

"We're both up to kill ourselves anyway, why does it matter which side we do it from?"

"You already know the answer to that!" Frank frowns, wondering why he hasn't just leaped off of the edge anyways. Why should it matter? Why is he even _considering_ what Gerard is saying, when it's total nonsense anyways? Yet, Gerard has a point. Nobody wants to leap off of the south corner of the building, because if you jump, you'd be surely safe. This spot has been notorious for suicides, ever since the 90's, and as of late the mayor has enlisted for suicide nets to be hung around every side of the building.

The flaw with that plan, however, was that the mayor managed to miss a corner of the building, which is exactly where Frank was standing, chewing on his lip nervously as he weighed down every single one of his options.

Gerard shrugs. "Can you do it after I do it, then?"

"No, what the fuck!? I don't want to watch another person kill themselves, that's fucked up!"

"Suicide in general is fucked up." Gerard gave Frank a dirty look, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why are you up here?"

"I- What, now you want my life story?" Frank feels his face begin to heat up in anger. He's known for being angry, maybe it comes with being as short as he is.

At first, Gerard smiles and steps up to plate. It's obvious that he's won, Frank has let go of his opportunity, and thus it's Gerard's turn, this could be the only chance he gets to leap. So, he shimmies past frank, holding onto the one rusted bar keeping him from falling. "Okay- no." Frank says, rubbing his face with his hand. "I'm not doing this. This is extremely fucked up, I'm leaving."

Gerard shrugs, toes dangling dangerously off of the side of the building. "'Kay. Seeya, Frank."

"You're actually gonna do it?"

"You weren't about to like, five seconds ago?"

Frank ponders this for a moment. "Nah. I come up here once and a while, debate it for an hour or so, and then climb down."

This is distracting Gerard, and he hates every moment of it, but any conversation is good conversation in his book. He hasn't talked to anyone else besides his brother since his senior year of highschool, actually. Maybe some comfort before the fall would be interesting. "Huh. What if you fell?"

"That would suck. Hey-" Frank shuffles closer to Gerard again, and Gerard tenses up wildly. He's not exactly a people person to begin with, and he's especially not a people-that-want-to-die-but-not-actually person. "Can you not stand so close to the ledge...? Maybe, if you wanna talk? It's freaking me out."  
  
Again, Gerard is being distracted. But he likes the conversation... he takes a few seconds to go over his options, and eventually shrugs before backing away. "I was really gonna do it, you know. If you weren't here. Don't think you saved my life, 'cause I'm still gonna do it."

Frank rolls his eyes, which is childish and rude and Gerard loved it. 

"Man, I don't  _care._ I don't know who you are, your life story or whatever. I just don't wanna see you fall. 'Cause, then I gotta look over the edge in curiosity. And I might vomit, and it might land all over your nasty dead body. You'd hate that, I think. As a ghost, I mean."

Gerard decides that Frank is batshit crazy.

"...So, you come up here every once and a while just to contemplate suicide, did I hear that correctly?" Gerard asks, genuinely freaked out and curious at the same time. Who does that? Isn't it just... you wanna die, so you do it? Well, Gerard guesses that he's being a bit hypocritical, seeing as he's only stayed alive for his brother. Otherwise, he would've jumped at fifteen with no regrets. Probably. He's not Doctor Who, alright!?

Frank sighs in frustration, nodding. "Yeah! I told you that like, twice now. Nice shirt by the way."

Gerard is wearing a misfits tee. He smiles, only slightly. "Thanks. Yours too."

Frank is wearing a plain gray shirt. He stares at Gerard.

He ultimately decides that Gerard is, also, batshit crazy. "You know, this isn't how life is supposed to work. You're not supposed to make friends with the guy who's toes are hanging off of the side of a fuckin' twenty story building. Aren't I supposed to like... quote Nelson Mandela? Give you an inspirational speech, make it real sappy so you start crying and eventually fall into my arms?" Frank asks, rubbing his forehead. His cranium aches with the familiar throb of an oncoming headache, and he knows that it's not going to be a pretty one. Frank gets migraines frequently. 

"I don't think humans were decided to kill themselves, anyway. You ever see any suicidal dogs? We're a special species, we get to make up the rules as we go along."

Frank snaps his fingers, pointing at Gerard. "See! That was smart. I'm not the one about to die, though... so damn. I should've thought of that."

Gerard is laughing now, and Frank feels a little better. In reality, as cynical and as much of an asshole as he can be, he didn't wanna see Gerard die. Watching anyone jump off o a building would be horrid, but Frank thinks that a highschool bully or OJ Simpson or something would be easier to watch crumbling on the pavement than some... kid.

Speaking of which, "How old are you anyways?" Frank asks, and he bites his lip upon seeing how defensive Gerard instantly gets.

"Nineteen. What's it to you? Never seen a depressed adult before?"

It's obvious that this isn't going in the direction he had planned, so instead, Frank just goes over and sits. Square in the middle of the roof of a building, the wind blowing locks of his hair around his face. Gerard just blinks, mind blown.

"Never seen someone so sad they can't take killing themselves seriously." Frank mutters.

Gerard decides against his own better judgement for a few minutes, and wonders over to sit next to Frank. He's good company, albeit he did ruin his plans for suicide. Whatever, it's not like that's never happened before.

 

 

"So, Gerard." Frank starts, resting his chin in his hands. "Why are you up here?"

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr - @pangst


End file.
